


Wakeup Call

by ancalime8301



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Schmoop, Teasing, shkinkmeme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-10
Updated: 2010-06-10
Packaged: 2017-10-18 18:52:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancalime8301/pseuds/ancalime8301
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holmes wakes Watson up using decidedly unconventional means.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wakeup Call

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [shkinkmeme](http://shkinkmeme.livejournal.com/) [prompt](http://community.livejournal.com/shkinkmeme/4456.html?thread=4629864#t4629864): _H/W. Slow lazy morning sex._ Also answers the [prompt](http://community.livejournal.com/shkinkmeme/3747.html?thread=2130339#t2130339) for bottom!Watson.

The grey pre-dawn light illuminated the vague shapes of furniture and belongings as he snuck into their rooms far later than he'd intended, but resolving the loose ends of a case doesn't always go as smoothly as he would like. He hoped Watson hadn't tried to stay up to meet him, but checked the settee nonetheless. It was empty, so he continued to their bedroom.

Watson was sprawled on his back on the bed, naked, the sheet rumpled and shoved toward the foot of the bed. It had been an unusually warm night until storms rolled through a few hours before, and the bedroom was still rather stifling. He opened the small window and stuck his head out for a moment, breathing in the cool air, then turned and started disrobing. He might as well join in Watson's state of undress since he fully intended to join him on the bed.

Once he too was naked, he sat on the edge of the bed and took a moment to fully appreciate the opportunity to stare at Watson to his heart's content. The curling hairs that peppered the golden skin, the lips parted in slumber, the light sheen of sweat dotting his skin, completely and utterly relaxed in repose in a way that he could never duplicate while awake, no matter how at ease. He leaned forward and kissed Watson's forehead, tonguing away the perspiration there. Watson sighed and shifted, but didn't wake.

He smiled to himself and decided to see how much teasing it would take to bring Watson to wakefulness. He pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of the open mouth, and set to work. Starting with the hollow of his throat and the dampness there, he licked and kissed away the sweat along Watson's collarbone, occasionally gently nipping the ridge of bone. His hands strayed to Watson's arms, caressing and kneading the firm muscles there.

Sitting back, he decided a change in position was in order for the next stage, and rose to his knees to straddle Watson's thighs. One hand on each side of Watson's chest, he continued laving away the sweat with his tongue, carefully kissing and sucking every inch of skin on that delightfully sturdy torso. Watson's nipples, of course, couldn't be neglected, and these he gently took between his teeth, the barest touch of tongue to the hardening nubs, before sending the faintest breath of air over the wetted flesh. Watson groaned and writhed beneath him, murmuring his name but not yet awake, though his cock was awakening quite nicely.

It was the stuff of dreams, to be sure, but this time it wasn't a dream, and he set out to make the point to the restless Watson. He shifted downward, his knees on either side of Watson's, and put his tongue back to work, watching Watson's stomach muscles shiver under his touch. Every so often he diverted to tease Watson's navel, with a gasp and squirm resulting every single time, and he had to put his hands to work holding Watson's hips in place so he wouldn't accidentally brush against his hardening cock. That attention would come later.

By this point he was almost painfully aroused and had to stop a moment so he wouldn't ruin the game. The case had been long and difficult, with precious little time he could spend with Watson since he had to spend much of the time in character down at the docks, which meant it had been a dreadfully long time since they had been able to entertain one another suitably. He wanted this to be slow, a proper apology for how long it had been, but his body was too busy reacting to the nearness of Watson after so much time away.

He had to get off the bed and retreat to the bathing room to quickly bring himself to release, the climax abrupt and wrenching, and he trembled as he leaned on the washstand. Taking a few deep breaths, he calmed and cleaned himself. Now he could do this the way he wanted, the way Watson deserved.

In his absence, Watson shifted his face toward the door, as if seeking him. He watched him fondly from the doorway, the fire in his blood calming slightly as he tried to match the deep, even breaths.

Enough of that. He returned to the bed, stopping to dig through the drawer of the nightstand to pull out a jar and removed the cap, placing the jar on the nightstand to be within reach when needed. He resumed his perch straddling Watson's body and pressed kisses to the side of his face, then slid to lick the outer edge of Watson's ear and sucked briefly on his earlobe. Watson's breath caught and he paused a moment, waiting until the breathing resumed its previous pace before resuming.

A hand running over the short hair while lips and teeth and tongue descended along the line of sinew from ear to shoulder, sucking particularly hard just above the collarbone to leave a mark that proclaimed Watson as his but was still able to be covered by the high collars Watson favored. Watson didn't like there to be visible signs of their relationship; he said it was too risky. Holmes knew Scotland Yard wasn't likely to attempt to prosecute them, but heeded Watson's wishes.

He sighed and pressed an ear to Watson's chest, listening to the steady heartbeat that had lulled him to sleep on so many restless nights. Watson's hand unerringly found its way to his head, the fingers carding through his hair the way they often did; the vibration of a murmur in Watson's chest and Holmes looked up to see Watson smiling and mumbling his name, though his eyes were still closed. He ducked out from under the hand and caught it in both of his own, bringing it to his lips to kiss the palm.

Then he had an idea, and his tongue darted out to lightly skim up one of Watson's fingers. Watson grew very still, his breathing growing ragged, so he did it to another finger, then took both fingers into his mouth, sucking on them lightly. Watson groaned and tried to find him with his other hand. He caught the questing hand and firmly pressed it back to the bed, patting the hand lightly, and Watson seemed to understand he wasn't to move it. He must be near to waking, then. Time to move on.

He scooped out a little of the viscous oily liquid in the jar -a lubricant of his own making, and one the reasons Watson willingly put up with this chemistry experiments- and slicked his fingers with it, carefully calculating his next move, for he expected it would be the one to drive Watson into full wakefulness. Getting into position, now kneeling between Watson's legs, he cupped Watson's sac with one hand while the other teasingly traced Watson's cleft. Raising his eyes to watch Watson's face, he inserted one oiled finger into Watson and took his proud, weeping cock fully into his mouth in one swift motion.

Watson cried out -almost yowled, really- and was awake in an instant; Holmes could tell by the way his muscles tightened and he seemed to fight between the urge to move away from the unexpected assault and the desire to succumb to the pleasure sweeping his body. Watson cleared his throat as if to speak, and Holmes put his free hand over his mouth to keep him from doing so. With a languid swipe of his tongue on the underside of Watson's cock, he pulled away and replaced the hand with his own mouth, one finger still firmly seated inside Watson.

Now that Watson was awake, his moans and wordless pleas made it difficult to keep his wits about him and continue with his plans. Well, that wasn't quite true, since his primary plan had been to tease Watson awake -which was a resounding success- but there were things he'd still like to do. While Watson was busy kissing him -and he was very, very good at it, too- he inserted another finger and gently started preparing him, teasing and stretching and slicking the opening.

Watson groaned into his mouth when his questing fingers brushed that center of pleasure, and he calculatingly stroked it twice more before studiously avoiding it. At length Watson's hands couldn't stay put anymore and grasped him by the hips, trying to pull him down onto Watson. He resisted, but had to concede it was time to move along.

When he withdrew his fingers, Watson bit Holmes' lip in frustration. He grinned and returned the favor before sitting up and moving so he was next to Watson, then leaned over him, nudging Watson with his knee while he scooped a larger amount of the lubricant. This he smeared onto his cock, by now quite ready to go another round, and wordlessly directed Watson onto his side. He personally preferred to take Watson while they were face to face, but Watson's leg was always stiff first thing in the morning and that position would be painful.

Lying down behind Watson, he slid one arm under him and laid his hand flat on his chest while he pressed himself close against Watson's back. Watson whimpered at the feel of his cock against his cleft; Holmes kissed the knob of bone at the base of Watson's neck and carefully eased himself into the prepared entrance, nearly giddy with the pleasure of being inside Watson. When he was as deep as he could go, he put his other arm around Watson as well and remained still for a moment, relishing the embrace and the feel, the smell of Watson.

Watson's hands settled atop his, and for the space of a few breaths, there was no movement, just pleasure in companionship. But Watson became impatient and tried to move against him, tried to urge his hand down to his aching erection. Holmes finally relented and started slowly rocking in and out, in and out, gently, slowly, carefully, infuriatingly. Every so often he made sure to stroke the blissful spot, a reward for Watson's endurance.

The hand on Watson's chest languidly toyed with a nipple, and the other hand incrementally crept down Watson's stomach until it finally came to rest on the twitching cock. But even then he simply held it, admiring its weight, its thickness. Watson tried to squeeze his hand tighter, to move it and provide some blessed friction; Holmes bit his shoulder for the impertinence.

Finally, he tightened his hand slightly and began to caress Watson's cock in time with his own languid rhythm, and he could tell by the way Watson was trembling that he was beginning to come apart at the seams. Perfect. Never changing his rhythm, he made sure to stroke at just the right angle to hit that spot every single time, and twisted and tightened the hand on Watson's cock just enough to bring him to the edge.

A choked cry, and Watson was tightening around him, a long, shuddering release after such a prolonged arousal. Holmes continued his slow thrusts a little longer until he also came with nearly blinding intensity. He panted against Watson's back, holding him close until he could think again. Then he pulled away, kissed Watson's temple, and settled onto the pillow beside him. "Good morning."

Watson chuckled and rolled over, his eyes skimming quickly over Holmes' body. "That was almost worth being left behind."

"You know why I had to leave you behind," Holmes said unhappily, cupping Watson's cheek in his hand and giving him a brief kiss.

"Yes, I know. But I worry, and it's going to take more than that to make me forget."

"What else will it take?" Holmes asked with a quirk of a smile.

"Watching you eat a good meal, for one," Watson said pointedly. "And more of what we were just doing wouldn't go amiss."

"I think I can agree to that," Holmes said seriously. "Which would you prefer first?"

Watson laughed and kissed him soundly. "It's a little early to bother Mrs. Hudson, I think. But this time, I do the touching. For you, no speaking, no touching." He grasped Holmes' wrists and pinned them to the bed. "Understood?"

Holmes chuckled breathlessly and nodded, eagerly kissing him back. Watson angled his body closer until his full length was pressed against Holmes' side, his hands sliding from Holmes' wrists to his palms until he could link their fingers. They remained thus for some time, Watson shifting against Holmes' side as he thoroughly plundered his mouth. Holmes hummed in contentment and relaxed.

At length, Watson freed his top arm and ran it along Holmes' arm, then used it to sweep across his chest and down his abdomen, his touch firm and calculating. Holmes made an unhappy noise beneath him, having realized that Watson was checking for injuries, and Watson chuckled. He was already satisfied that Holmes hadn't done any damage to himself, aside from the usual insufficient food and rest, so his hand strayed to Holmes' thigh and merely brushed against Holmes' cock before returning to Holmes' side and skimming over his ribs, lightly tickling.

Holmes squirmed and gasped. Watson kissed the corner of his mouth and pushed himself up onto his knees, freeing his hands to leave trails of fire on Holmes' skin. Where Holmes used mouth and tongue to tease and caress, Watson used hands and breath and the barest hint of mustache to stimulate and arouse.

In any other setting, the motions of his hands could be called a massage, but here, now, he was expertly winding Holmes up, coiling him like a spring, until he allowed him to release with a shout and a groan. A huff of air over a nipple, sensitizing it with light touches of mustache, and Watson let his bottom lip drag over it as he said, "I knew it was you, you know. Did you really think I wouldn't wake up with you touching me like that?"

He leaned up to see Holmes' dumbfounded expression, and laughed. Holmes made an inquiring noise, cut short by a gasp when Watson abruptly licking his other nipple. "When did I wake?" Watson supplied, and Holmes nodded. "As you were leaving." He moved his hands to Holmes' hips and his mouth followed, making a damp trail with his breath down Holmes' stomach.

"You couldn't hold back, could you?" he murmured, relishing the shudder that passed through Holmes at his words. "Your teasing worked a little too well, yes?" Holmes nodded jerkily in response, and Watson rewarded his honesty by folding his hand around Holmes' cock and licking the damp tip. Holmes groaned and writhed beneath him.

A sudden gust of wind through the open window set them both shivering for an entirely different reason. Watson sat up, but rather than going to close the window, he shifted to kiss Holmes again as he moved one knee to straddle him. "I know what will keep us warm," he said huskily into Holmes' ear, then impaled himself on Holmes' cock.

Holmes twitched as he was taken inside Watson, the sensation of warmth and slickness and tightness almost too much on his sensitized skin. Then it was just pleasure as Watson raised and lowered himself and Holmes arched to meet him, their hands once again entwined, their panting breaths heating the space between their bodies.

The pace was steady, if a bit slow for Holmes' taste, until Watson stopped entirely, a hitch in his breathing, and one of Watson's hands left his. He opened his eyes to see Watson digging the heel of his hand into his thigh, looking distressed. Holmes touched his knee inquiringly, and at Watson's stiff nod, he sat up and moved the pillows to where Watson could lie back onto them. Careful shifting of legs followed, until Watson was on his back atop the pillows and Holmes fitted between his legs, still buried inside him.

Encouragement was necessary then, as always, and Holmes expertly kneaded the knots from Watson's thigh, shifting his hips minutely to stroke the spot inside that would reawaken Watson's ardour. A few deep kisses and a warm hand on his cock, and Watson could almost forget that he'd disrupted their activities. Again.

Holmes took his time with Watson, knowing from his expression that he was still dismayed with himself, coaxing Watson's attention back with mouth and hand and cock until Watson lost the pinched look and all he could do was gasp Holmes' name. His lazy rocking shifted to frantic snapping of the hips, his hand on Watson's cock squeezing and pulling.

Watson cried out and Holmes joined him, completely losing contact with everything outside himself as his energy was released along with his semen. When he returned to his senses, he was slumped on Watson, who was embracing him and running one hand up and down his back while the other was buried in his hair.

"You didn't sleep last night, did you?" Watson asked softly, lightly tracing the dark circles under his eyes before returning to stroking his back. Words beyond him, Holmes shook his head slightly. "Sleep, then. I'll make you eat something later," Watson said, a tinge of amusement in his voice.

Holmes was nearly there already, so all he could do was obey. He only hoped his wakeup call would be as pleasant as the one he'd given Watson.


End file.
